


The Followers

by MakaylaJade



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brainwashing, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Freeform, Gen, I have no idea where this is going, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mind Control, Near Death Experiences, On Hiatus, Psychological Torture, Religious Cults, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spencer Reid Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, UFOs, this might be romantic or platonic, who knows because I certainly dont
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakaylaJade/pseuds/MakaylaJade
Summary: What was it about cults that always seemed to draw in publicity? Perhaps it was the complete abnormality of them, along with their sometimes dangerous or wicked practices.This wasn’t his personal hell; he was still very much alive, but he was beginning to question whether or not he really wanted to be.-On Indefinite Hiatus-
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Cults 101

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is the start of something new, and I only hope you enjoy. My academic studies in cults and the psychology of cult leaders has inspired me to incorporate it within a Criminal Minds fanfic! This is not based on s04, ep03: Minimal Loss. This is something entirely different, although I do plan for it to take place sometime in the middle of season 4. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Apologies in advance though - there is no definite plot line for this story and the only one reading it before its posted is yours truly :D

What was it about cults that always seemed to draw in publicity? Perhaps it was the complete abnormality of them, along with their sometimes dangerous or wicked practices. Most cults were assumed to be Satanic, with dark ways and evil plans for those who happened to stumble upon their existence, but that wasn’t often true. Many were in fact Christian based sects, torn away from the rest of a mainstream religion because they perceived something differently than others, or had their own beliefs of Scripture or tradition. Perhaps they were like the poor forgotten souls of Jonestown, led by a charismatic, mentally unstable leader to their ultimate demise of mass suicide, through tactics of manipulation; discipline and obedience. But others were not so simple. There were in fact those who practiced faiths unlike any others, dictated by extraterrestrial beings, who promised to come for them when their time on earth was deemed complete.

Perhaps those moments of wandering was what led them all to a place of comfort, formed by the creation of a faith sought out by those who simply wanted answers. Maybe that was what Spencer could learn from this all: the philosophical pondering of religion constructed by the beliefs of a delusional man not unlike his own mother were not so abstract.

How long had it been — Days? Weeks? He had lost track of time eventually, and even though his sense of time was normally close to if not perfect, his mind was fried and he could still feel the static in his hair from those electrodes previously stuck to his scalp. He didn’t know what to think. His arms had long since passed the point of cramping, thestraitjacket fixed on his body confining his long limbs around his torso. The strap between his legs was getting to be uncomfortable too, digging into his groin at an angle that was close to painful. But even that was better than the inherent absence of feeling altogether. It served as a reminder that this wasn’t his personal hell; he was still very much alive, but he was beginning to question whether or not he really wanted to be.

_Two Weeks Earlier…_

“Alright everyone, grab a seat, because this one is a doozy,” Garcia’s voice called into the room as the BAU in its entirety shuffled in, most looking somewhat disappointed because five o’clock was _so close_ and they had almost made it through the day without being called on a case.

“Okay, White River National Forest, Colorado,” Garcia began when her team was seated, a slightly disgruntled frown taking over her usual bright features as she turned the monitor on, and instantly, at least ten images of corpses strapped in straitjackets littered the screen, disposed of in the middle of a forest, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The bullet wounds to their heads was unmistakable, and after a quick read through, a slight furrow in Reid’s brow caught Hotch’s attention, but he remained quiet and let Garcia proceed.

“Eleven victims, both male and female with ages ranging from eighteen to fifty-five, were found with self inflicted gunshot wounds. All of the bodies were found within a two mile radius, spread out over the last four months,” she concluded. Morgan sat up in his chair a bit, his own brows narrowed downwards as he looked both confused and somewhat terrified.

“Are those…”

“Straitjackets? Yes. Local law enforcement is assuming the victims were put in them after death, because… You know,” she said, holding her arms around her torso and acting as if they were stuck there. Rossi simply gave a grim look before speaking.

“Have locals considered a cult?” He questioned, Emily’s head perking up almost immediately at the mention of that, since it seemed so outlandish and abnormal — but then again, it wasn’t something that they hadn’t experienced before. She spared a glance in Reid’s direction before looking back to Garcia who chimed in to answer Rossi’s question.

“Why yes, they have. Apparently there’s a compound located just outside of the forest’s border, and although nothing is known about the people living there, they don’t interact with the public. In fact, a few park rangers stumbled upon the sight and were threatened with, and I quote, ‘laser beams,’” Garcia said, lips in a straight line as she annunciated her point with a firm bob of her head.

“Laser beams,” Hotch repeated, as if he wasn't sure he heard correctly. Reid's head cocked slightly to the side. 

“You know…” he started, leaning back in his seat as he glanced over his file again, as if he had not already memorized the entire document, “I think we may have been uncovered a UFO cult.”

“A UFO cult? Come on, kid, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Morgan said with an incredulous expression, a huff of a laugh sounding after he spoke.

“No, wait, I think Reid might be on to something,” Prentiss pointed out, looking back to Spencer who simply nodded eagerly and sat up, gesturing with his hands as he spoke,

“UFO religions are typically composed of people who believe that extraterrestrial beings are interested or involved in our world. They also believe that they eventually will become or are already a part of a pre-existing alien civilization. Some believers view the ETs as something closer to angels rather than physical alien. A lot of these religions have their roots in science fiction writings, ufology, and the occult,” Reid summed up, the rest of the group hardly batting an eye at his knowledge of something so strange — they had gotten used to his strange recounts of information long ago.

“A UFO cult… Well, this is definitely new for me,” JJ piped up, shaking her head with a somewhat humorous expression on her face, a cup of coffee perched in the palm of her hand.

“I think it might be for all of us. Wheels up in twenty,” Hotch said with a nod of his head before leaving them to prepare themselves for the trip. Morgan stood, shaking his head, and Emily sent a look his way that practically said, ‘I hope you’re ready for this one.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so we got that down! I apologize, this first chapter is quite short, but it was simply for you all to get the lay of the land.


	2. A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave your thoughts and feedback in the comments!

“Reid, tell us more about UFO cults,” Hotch said not unkindly, looking towards the youngest member with something akin to pride in his eyes. Spencer was a valuable asset to their team, and it was bad that they often overlooked him and his incredibly vast vault of knowledge. He knew so many facts about so many different topics, and even his knowledge of this was somewhat surprising.

The team was all seated on the jet on their way to Silverthorne, Colorado,All were bunched together near the table, Reid sitting at one of the window seats with his legs crossed beneath the table, looking up immediately when his intelligence was called upon.

“Well, some cultists believe in the arrival or rediscovery of alien civilizations, technologies and spirituality. They often believe that they will enable us humans to overcome some worldly problems. Some of these issues may be war, poverty, suffering and so on… They believe these issues can be solved through the use of superior alien technology and spiritual abilities. Heaven’s Gate was a big one; leaders Marshall Applewhite and Bonnie Nettles, also called Ti and Do or “The Two” by followers, believed they were reincarnations of Jesus. Applewhite and nearly forty other members committed suicide with the belief that a spaceship following the Comet Hale-Bopp had come to ‘beam them up’ into their version; what they called the ‘Level Above Human,’” Reid concluded, a small frown touching his neutral features.

“Most cults have apocalyptic ideologies,” Rossi said afterwards, a hand on his chin as he thought over the situation.

“Yeah, I mean, look at Peoples Temple,” Emily chimed in, “Jones was a sociopath yet somehow persuaded his entire congregation to drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Nine hundred and nine people,” Reid corrected gently, happy to throw in an actual number. Emily simply regarded him with a small nod of her head and Morgan with a scoff and an eye roll, not unfriendly. Just as Reid was about to call out his ‘disrespect,’ Hotch quickly gathered their attention.

“So what does it mean if a cult is making people commit suicide individually?” Hotch questioned.

“And dressing them in straitjackets,” Morgan added in with obvious disdain, a frown marring his features. Reid looked at Hotch first and then towards Morgan, and three words that nobody liked to hear from him was all that he could offer.

“I don’t know.”

. . .

Upon their arrival to Silverthorne, they were welcomed quite graciously, a couple of officers and the sheriff himself meeting them at the airport to escort them back to the police department. But as was usual, JJ greeted the three men with a warm smile, shaking their hands individually while the team followed suit, sans Reid of course, who simply waved a bit awkwardly when he was introduced.

“Hi, Agent Jareau, we talked on the phone,” JJ said once she made it to the sheriff, grasping his hand firmly without any hesitation, making herself just as official as any man in charge could. “These are Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Prentiss and Morgan, and that’s Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Sheriff Conley. It’s nice to meet you folks,” the sheriff said not unkindly, with a firm nod of his head, and it was clear that a smile hadn’t touched his features in a long time. “We’re glad to have you here. We often like to take care of things ourselves, but this is too far out of our league. I just hope you can make sense of it all.”

“We’ll certainly do our best,” Hotch replied cooly before the group dispersed into a pair of government-issued SUVs to regather at the local police department.

It was just a small office, considering Silverthorne was just a small town with a population a little less than four thousand residents. It was a beautiful, scenic place though, and Rossi made a comment about America’s hidden wonders while looking out the passenger-side window.

When they made it to the department, they were set up in a small conference room, a bulletin board already set up with several pieces of information and crime scene pictures already pinned to it. Reid instantly wandered in that direction, the rest of the group staying close by to discuss what they knew already.

“Dr. Janson, the medical examiner for Summit County, is at the coroner’s office now. He should be ready for you all within the next few hours, but I doubt he’ll find much else about our victims. What you see is what you got,” Conley said with a little shrug of his broad shoulders, regarding Reid with a slight frown. He was rearranging some of the pictures and adding labels to them, marking them by victim number as well as their names. But as far as he could tell, there was no pattern among them or even any sense of organization. The victims varied in age and gender but the signature seemed to be the same. Straitjackets were rare nowadays, as was any form of physical restraint in psychiatric hospitals because of the rise in better-fit medications and well prepared staff. This seemed strange, abnormal, and the idea of a cult involvement was seeming more and more likely. Reid was intrigued and fascinated.

“Good. Dave, I want you and Prentiss to head over there when Dr. Janson is ready. Sheriff, have you been able to contact any of the victims’ families?” Hotch asked, to which the Sheriff simply frowned and shook his head.

“That’s just it. They didn’t have any,” he supplied, which caught Reid’s attention. He turned, brows furrowed again, and the rest of the team looked at him expectantly while his gears turned at rapid-fire speed.

“You got something, Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head just slightly. JJ had already taken a seat at the table, her eyes rising from the file in her hands to give her utmost attention to their resident genius.

“Sheriff, what do you know about the supposed cult?” Reid asked, some of the team members catching on quickly.

“Not much, just that they’re pretty isolated and have threatened some of the park rangers and my officers. Seem pretty inviting towards hikers and campers though — that was how we were made aware of their existence,” Conley said almost hesitantly, surprised by the younger man’s thoughtful yet determined expression.

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Prentiss questioned, sitting herself down as well next to JJ as if getting ready for one of his long ramblings. Reid looked disheartened suddenly, especially since it had come from Emily. Sending people into an unidentified religious group was never a good idea, but then again, he and Emily had entered the Separatarian sect’s compound under the guise of social workers and that hadn’t worked in their favor either. But it was possible that they could send in a couple of ‘intrigued wanderers’ without raising alarm. That way, they could potentially learn more about them and see if it was possible that they were to blame for the almost ritualized killings.

“Never mind,” Reid said with a shake of his head, not wanting to share such an unusually foolish idea with his colleagues, “It’s nothing.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, almost like a warning, his dark eyes watching him sharply as if urging him to share.

“What is it, Spence?” JJ questioned next, eager to know what the young doctor was thinking of so deeply. It wasn’t unlike him to shut down his own thoughts, but usually he would at least share those thoughts first before dismissing them.

“No, really… It’s stupid. I was going to say we could try and communicate with the group by sending people in, but… that’s stupid,” Reid said with another shake of his head, his lips pursed just slightly.

“Communication might not be such a bad idea,” Rossi popped into the conversation, “Cults like these isolate themselves because they think hold themselves in higher regards than other people. Maybe we could get them to express their beliefs to us… To someone studying new religious movements.”

All eyes turned to Reid again, imposing and suggestive, but he looked unaware at first. They always seemed to forget that Spencer wasn’t good with social cues, but it didn’t matter but Morgan, as stubborn as he was, quickly regarded the idea with scrutiny. Hotch wasn’t much unlike him.

“Wait. We can’t just send one agent in alone. That would be suicide,” Derek said with a heavy frown.

“Morgan’s right. But… Dave, that might not be such a bad idea. What do you think, Reid? Could you pull off an investigative journalist? Or maybe even a college student?”

“Of course I could,” Spencer said without hesitation, looking towards Morgan again. Their eyes connected and an agreement was made through the eye contact, yet it was a wordless exchange. “But I’m not doing it alone.”

“I’ll go with him,” Morgan said instantly, the eye contact remaining strong between the two men. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into, but Spencer knew that if it was Morgan by his side, he had nothing to worry about. He trusted Derek with his life, and he knew the other man felt the same about him. The two men had been getting closer and closer over the last few months, spending more time with each other outside of work like real best friends. They were almost inseparable, and even though they teased each other mercilessly sometimes, the overwhelming care and adoration they held for each other was glaringly obvious.

The rest of the day went on just about how they expected it would. Rossi and Prentiss headed to the M.E. and the only interesting thing they learned was of a specific drug found in all of the victim’s systems.

“Modafinil?” Reid questioned in surprise, looking over the toxicology reports with a shocked expression on his face.

“Assume none of us know what that is, kid,” Rossi requested, Emily smiling slightly beside him at the slight jab at the genius.

“It’s used to treat narcolepsy and a few other sleep disorders,” Spencer quickly filled them in, resting his chin in his hand as he thought over it. “For some reason… our victims were forced to stay awake.”

“I would say its because our unsub is sadistic and wants them awake for the torture, but there was no evidence of physical torture,” Morgan said, looking up when Reid seemed to sit up a bit straighter, a solemn expression taking over his features.

“It’s psychological,” he said, his voice quiet since the revelation was not a pleasant one.

Nothing else could be done until they were given the okay to send in a couple of agents for what they were calling a ‘scouting mission.’ To strip an agent of their gun and send them into a possible volatile situation was dangerous, and to avoid any possible conflicts with policy and bureaucracy, they needed permission ahead of time. Which was why they called it early for the day and decided to get a quick dinner together before heading to their hotel where they split into shared rooms; Hotch and Rossi, JJ and Emily, and Morgan and Reid. It was the usual arrangements, but Reid could feel a newfound tension built up between him and Morgan. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to address it. Social situations were his ultimate weak point; they had been ever since he was young. His social development had been stunted quite pathetically due to the age difference between himself and his peers. While he breezed through his schoolwork and projects, he struggled making friends and up until he enrolled in the FBI academy, he had no friends. Ethan was his first, but that had wavered when Ethan dropped out of the academy and left Reid to his own devices. Which was why the tension was making him uncomfortable and somewhat worried.

Derek didn’t mention it until Reid had gotten out of the shower though. He emerged wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants an old FBI t-shirt which was clearly too big for his skinny frame. Morgan was sitting at the foot of his chosen bed; the one closest to the door. It was a protective act for him, and Spencer never failed to notice his choice with every hotel room they stayed in together.

“We need to talk,” Derek said, looking up to Reid who looked somewhat confused but compliant, toweling his messy chestnut locks until they were only damp, and then sitting on his own bed, facing him and crossing his long legs Indian style.

“About?…” Spencer responded hesitantly, looking somewhat intimidated but interested all the same. He hugged a pillow against his chest, slender fingers clutching onto the case innocently enough.

“This mission,” Derek said, moving to sit on the side of his own bed. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him as he regarded Reid with a serious expression. “This might get messy. I need you to know that I have your back every step of the way. This won’t be like Liberty Ranch.”

  
Reid’s heart trembled in his chest, his hazel eyes widening just slightly as he regarded Morgan with a strange look. His long limbs unfurled, feet touching the ground as he leaned forward slightly as well. His hands took up a position similar to Morgan’s, his dark hair flopping over his forehead.

“I know… I trust you,” he said quietly. Morgan knew how difficult it was for Reid to open up to other people, but it wasn’t a secret to any of them that Spencer had struggled after his experience trapped in that compound, being partially responsible for Emily’s trauma at Cyrus’s hands. He confessed to Morgan once that he had nearly relapsed, but even that had taken much coaxing to get from him. It had been a particularly bad day for Spencer, and after an uncharacteristic lashing out towards him, he cornered Reid in the bathroom and practically forced him to explain himself. Reid had nearly cried, but he held himself together and stayed strong as he confessed his recent cravings to Morgan. Derek of course didn’t view his friend any differently, and it was honestly moments like that that brought them together and strengthened their relationship.

“Promise me that we’ll stick together,” Derek said to him, his large hands coming over top of Spencer’s and holding them tightly, squeezing just slightly over the other man’s smaller hands. Spencer looked up to him with warm eyes, a small yet pretty smile touching his lips as he nodded his head.

“I promise.”


	3. Infiltration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that little hiatus! I got really caught up in my new series For The Gods: The Bria Monique Series, and if you're interested in something a little less creepy, I suggest you check it out! But for now, enjoy the third chapter of The Followers :)

“Aaron, you know I can’t authorize this.”

They had been on the phone since nearly six that morning, although for Strauss, it was obviously two hours ahead. Hotch was running out of options here, because while the idea of sending a couple of agents into an unidentified and potentially homicidal cult compound seemed dangerous and irrational, it was slowly becoming their only option. These victims were unidentified and had been unclaimed, and even the first victim that had been found nearly four months ago remained in that status. They were running out of options, and unless they wanted to find more straitjacketed bodies out in the woods, they needed to do something, and fast.

“Ma’am, we already have a total of eleven victims. Unless we want that number to get bigger, we need to do something now. My agents are prepared and willing to do this in order to profile this cult and hopefully identify a killer,” Hotch said, truly reaching out on a limb since this was a difficult situation for anyone. Of course he didn’t want to send two members of his team, two members of his family into a potentially dangerous situation, but Reid and Morgan were qualified and well trained agents, and if anyone could do the job, it was them.

“Aaron…” Strauss continued on, sounding somewhat sympathetic, but ultimately, she was at a crossroads here instead. If Hotchner’s team was correct and she didn’t authorize this, the negative reaction would come down on her head and her reputation would take a plunge. But if they were wrong and ended up disturbing a peaceful albeit strange religious sect, she could also take a beating for it. But she had to trust Aaron’s judgement. They had not been wrong many times before, and she doubted they were this time. It had to be done.

“Please, Erin,” Hotch said, desperately, his voice quieter than before as if he had reached a breaking point. Strauss sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head as she responded:

“Fine, Aaron. But expect to write a finely detailed report when you get back,” she said.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Hotch said in relief, to which the two officials departed with solemn goodbyes and a good luck from Strauss. He had to let his team know that the infiltration mission had been approved and that, within the next twenty-four hours, the team was going to be sending in two of their own to investigate a possible cult and figure out if they were responsible for the murders. Hotch sat on the edge of his bed, pressing his palms against his forehead and sighing deeply. They had no way of predicting how this would turn out, and without a profile, his two agents were stepping into a whole new world unprepared. This could get ugly… He just clung to that inkling of hope that Reid and Morgan would be able to do it without losing themselves along the way.

. . .

To say he was nervous was an understatement. They had absolutely no idea what they were getting themselves into, and the sheer fact that he was clueless scared Spencer to no ends. He wasn’t used to feelings of ignorance, simply because of his vast storage of knowledge. Even with Morgan by his side, he would be exposed and uncertain simply because, while they assumed this cult practiced a UFO religion, they didn’t know that for sure. And it was that sense of not knowing which nearly drove him to a panic attack in the middle of the conference room.

“Reid? Are you ready?” Morgan asked him, laying a hand on his shoulder as the rest of the team looked at the two expectantly, wearing expressions of concern and solemnity, simply because they didn’t know how this was going to go just as they were. But, they were both wired and prepared for anything that could happen. They just had to get in and out without revealing their true status as agents or posing any immediate danger on the group. Their biggest concern, however, was if they decided not to let them go, but that was a risk they were going to have to take for the sake of justice.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m ready,” Reid said with a firm nod of his head as he rose from his chair and collected his props as Rossi had called them; his traditional messenger bag, but remade to look like a college student’s, complete with notebooks, folders, and the like. Morgan was given something similar, although it was an actual backpack. The two were both given phones other than their own, and should they feel they were in immediate danger or the mission had been compromised, they were to call the only number programmed into it belonging to the one Aaron Hotchner.

The gig was this: Spencer Harrison was a full-time college student working on his PhD in theology, while Derek Green was his older peer, also working on a PhD but in psychology. They attended The Colorado College in Colorado Springs, but had came up to Silverthorne because they had heard of a new religious movement group setting its stakes in the White River National Forest, and wished to conduct interviews for the purpose of research. They were planning on writing a research paper together on the impact of new religious movements on the general public, and going straight to the source was as good as it could get.

They took a normal civilian car, a dark blue sedan from the earlier 2000s so that they would fit the part better and not attract unwanted suspicion, but the entire way there, Garcia gave them directions through the tiny, nearly invisible earpieces. Luckily Spencer’s hair covered his ears anyway, and despite his numerous expressions of concern for Morgan, he wasn’t very worried about it being noticed since it was so little. Soon, they pulled down a dirt road just off of the park route, and after about a mile or so, they came upon the very compound; a large grey, multi structured building with at least three floors wrapping around a tall tower, almost reminiscent of a church steeple.

In the car, Spencer took a deep breath to quell his nerves, and Derek just regarded him with a small smile, reaching over and resting his larger hand over Spencer’s hand which trembled on his thigh.

“We’ll be fine, Pretty Boy. Remember; We’re just grad students coming to do some independent research.”

“Right…” Spencer said, swallowing nervously before pulling away from Morgan and climbing out of the car, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder and heading towards the entrance of the compound, Morgan following suit. Spencer was vulnerable without his gun, but Derek kept his ankle holster in place despite his team advising against it. Spencer didn’t blame them either, especially since most civilians didn’t carry guns like that. But it was for their protection, although Reid stressed over whether that gun would actually be used or not - he prayed it would not.

About twenty feet away from the compound, the door at the front entrance opened before they could even reach it, a middle-aged man stepping out without hesitation, regarding the two hesitantly and descending the steps from the small porch-like landing, his booted steps heavy on the dirt pathway. He had on jeans and a flannel, nothing that would suggest cult membership, especially not of a UFO religion who, like Heaven’s Gate, were known for wearing identical clothing. Spencer’s eyes were wide, but he forced a smile on his lips despite the man’s rather unpleasant welcoming.

“What do you want?” He called to them, keeping a comfortable twelve to fifteen feet between them, reaching for his belt where a holster rested comfortably against his hip. But he didn’t remove it, thank god, most likely because he didn’t deem the two men as a threat, even if Morgan was physically imposing.

“Um… We’re, uh, students. From The Colorado University?” Spencer said in, hardly able to keep his nerves under control. But it made it seem that much more genuine, and the shy, awkward smile he tacked on top of his awkward introduction made it even more believable.

“We heard about a new religious movement in the area and we wanted to see if you all were the real deal,” Derek said, sounding as casual as he possibly could.

“You could call us that,” the man said simply, his hand lowering from his hip and swinging normally by his side as he walked to meet the group where they stood, his cold mood disappearing almost instantly as he extended his hand to greet them with a welcoming smile.

“Timothy Jackson. TJ if you like,” he said, practically a different person now compared to before.

“Derek Green. This is my friend Spencer Harrison,” Morgan introduced the both of them,taking his hand while Spencer simply waved, being his typical germaphobic self. But the man didn’t question his strange mannerisms, simply nodding his head in his direction and gesturing for the men to follow him back to the compound. When the man turned his back on them completely, Derek’s hand brushed against his own and they made eye contact for just a few seconds before entering the compound, leaving the visual of their car’s dashboard camera.

“It’s nice to meet who folks who are actually interested in us as a community. They try to call us all sorts of names like cults and Satanists, but we’re all here of our own accord to strive for higher understanding of our faith. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, is there?” He asked them, to which Spencer immediately shook his head no.

“Absolutely not,” he agreed, hoping to gain some rapport with TJ, who he assumed was either the leader or diehard believer, but he was leaning closer to a diehard believer since, while he held some definite authority, he wasn’t quite charismatic enough to be a cult leader in popular sense. Spencer looked around the open entry way similar to a foyer, and in truth, it almost looked homey.

“Let me find Vinny, he’ll be happy to talk to you,” he said, disappearing into a hallway branching off from the foyer. Reid didn’t say a word, but the expression on his face and the occasional twitches of his hands made it clear he was uncomfortable. Derek remained silent as well, but the way his eyes seemed to dart back and forth between his eyes and the hallway made it clear that he needed to calm himself down otherwise he would inadvertently blow their cover. Spencer had never been undercover like this before, and while Derek wasn’t necessarily a well experienced undercover agent, he at least knew how to keep his cool. Reid looked ready to spontaneously combust from his nerves.

“TJ said we had some visitors!” Came a deep, boisterous voice that seemed to float through the air for a few seconds. Another man approached the duo, his hands clasped together behind him as he took careful, elegant steps, dressed to the nines as if he were attending a fancy dinner part. To Spencer, ‘Vinny’ resembled Rossi in a way, but at least five to ten years older with a head of silver hair. Despite the wrinkles aging his mirthful face, he carried a certain regality to him that Spencer would be a fool to miss.

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir. Derek,” Morgan greeted again, letting Spencer take the reins of his own introduction this time. Going against his own moral code, he stuck his hand out to shake Vinny’s hand, feeling a strange electricity jolt along his fingertips, but it was not enough for him to pull away in shock. He connected eyes with Vinny who seemed to consider him significantly, squeezing again as he finally revealed his own identity.

“Vincent Ansel,” he said cordially, letting go of Spencer’s hand almost reluctantly. “So, I hear you two are students. We don’t often get visitors around here who are not cops or park rangers. What a refreshment, you are.”

The way he seemed his crystal blue eyes stared at Spencer was making him uncomfortable, and being the meek individual he was, he wasn’t able to maintain that eye contact, especially not with such a fiercely observant, _searching_ gaze. He was almost definitely trying to break him down already, but he couldn’t let himself become weak. Morgan was definitely not oblivious to this new development, regarding Spencer with a somewhat concerned glance before looking back to Vincent who just smiled at him then, looking at him the same way he had Reid but realizing quickly enough that Spencer was the submissive of the two.

“Come with me. I’d like to show you around our beloved home,” Ansel said, turning on his heels and heading back towards the hallway, which wrapped around the compound and held all of thebedrooms before branching off into a large day room that seemed to function as a church of some sort. Inside of that room was no furniture, but mats were spread across the room, about a foot or so between them, and a person knelt on each mat. It reminded Spencer of a horror movie almost, especially since every person was staring directly in front of them, but their faces were completely devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

“This, gentlemen, is our church as most religions call it. These people are practicing the power of telepathy and connecting to our extraterrestrial kin. It is a powerful thing, is it not?” Vinny said, directing his last question towards TJ who nodded almost instantly, an expression of pride building up on his aging face. Spencer stared at the group before them, a shiver creeping up his spine coldly, and he resisted the urge to physically tremble. He wasn’t usually one to judge religions, mainly because he had an understanding of almost every worldly known religion, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen before. If he didn’t know any better, he might think these people were actually dead and had been posed like this…

“It takes a long time for us to achieve our connection. But I, I felt it one day. It was a normal day, I was behind my desk at work, and all of a sudden, a great vision came to me. Our wonderful guardian Stalxeon spoke to me and told me that the world was filled with imposters, and only those who came to me could be trusted. That is why we are so hesitant towards outsiders,” Vincent explained to them, leading them back further into the building until they were in a small sitting room, which consisted of a few chairs and two couches sat around a square coffee table, an industrial fireplace built into the far wall. They all seated themselves, and as hesitant as Spencer was, the look in Derek’s eyes reminded him that he needed to act normal, despite both of their nerves. He sat next to Derek on the rustic loveseat.

“But recently, they had spoken to me and told me that our time was coming to an end here on earth, and that we should wait until we are given a sign of good faith,” Vincent said, leaning forward where he sat in his chair, those wide, disturbing eyes acknowledging them both with extreme interest, fascination. Spencer squirmed under the heavy gaze, unable to meet his eyes while Derek stared back just as harshly, not wanting Vincent to think for one second that they were weak. Things were getting strange very quickly, and as tempted as Spencer was to call Hotch, he couldn’t do so now without drawing suspicion.

“Tell me, Spencer, Derek… Don’t you wish to see the truth?” Vincent said in a quiet, somewhat shuddering voice.

Before Spencer even realized what was happening, a sharp prick in his neck elicited a gasp from him, and as soon as Derek turned to look at him, his vision had already gone black. Morgan tried to fight, and he drew his fist back, but it was far too late. The needle was in, and within the next few seconds, all he could see were Vincent’s cold blues slicing into his very being until he was nothing but a blur across his conscious.


End file.
